Party Fowl
by froodlemonkey
Summary: Parenting in Eerie has a few unique challenges. Sometimes, the solutions need to be a little bit unusual.
1. Summoning

"I'm not comfortable with this," said Edgar. Marilyn looked up from where she was laying out an altar set with chicken feet, cheese dip, salsa, nachos, a Hawaiian shirt, and a paper party hat. She gave her husband a rueful smile as she arranged five noise-makers in a pentacle.

"I know, honey," she said. "And you know that I respect your need for everything to have a scientific explanation. But right now our teenage daughter is at an unchaperoned party with boys, and loud music, and most likely alcohol, and I need you to respect my need to take precautions to keep her safe."

"She has a phone card, and money for a taxi, and a Taser," said Edgar.

"I promise," said Marilyn. "This will only come into play in a worse-case scenario. Or after one in the morning."

"Her curfew is midnight," said Edgar.

"Syndi's a smart, responsible girl," said his wife. "I don't want to stifle her unnecessarily."

"This is definitely unnecessary," said Edgar.

"Well, you're entitled to your opinion," said Marilyn, kissed him on the cheek, and dropped a lit match into a bowl filled with flavoured condoms.

They burned with an unnatural greenish flame. The fire spread quickly to the other offerings laid out on the altar made from an empty keg, and the whole display went up in an explosion of acrid smoke and a ghostly "Bucaw!"


	2. The Party Fowl Cometh

Stanley Binkerman's parents were out of town for the weekend, and the houseparty wasn't going quite as well as he'd hoped. He was pretty sure he could think of an explanation for the tequila that had filled the hot tub; he just wasn't certain how he could explain the hot tub itself.

The clock struck one. Over the pounding music and the raised voices, there was a small clap of thunder, a sound like claws scrabbling in hard dirt and then the door to the living room exploded off it's hinges to the sound of dramatic guitar chords.

Like the iconic Kool-Aid man, the Party Fowl strode into the room, except instead of bringing refreshing fruit punch, he brought cringing and the acute, burning sensation of second-hand embarrasment. A giant chicken whose comb brushed the ceiling, leaving a sticky smear of coagulated AX bodyspray on the white paint, the Party Fowl wore shades indoors, at night, and as he entered, he did a Fonzi-esque two-handed finger point at three teenage girls sipping beers on the sofa. He squawked his appreciation. They gave him a disgusted glance, and left through the empty doorframe.

Stanley put his head in his hands.


	3. Return of the Party Fowl

When a cab pulled up outside the Teller house at 1.15am and Syndi got out, Marilyn allowed herself a triumphant smile. Edgar noticed and shook his head. Marilyn's smile became a frown.

"Just because summoning an eldritch horror from beyond the Void isn't a process you discovered, refined and experimented with in your lab, doesn't mean it's not an effective way to ensure our teenage daughter keeps to a reasonable approximation of curfew," she said.

Whatever comeback Edgar may have had to that was lost to history as Syndi opened the front door.

"How was the party, sweetheart?" Marilyn asked.

"It was okay," Syndi replied. "Until some drunk jerks showed up being all creepy and gross."

"That's how it usually goes with houseparties," said Edgar, pressing a quick cheek to his daughter's temple.

"Yeah," said Syndi. "I don't know why everything always has to get weird and involve some massive space chicken every time I'm out late, though."

"Teenage boys," said Marilyn. "They mature slower. There's leftovers from supper if you want anything."

"Nah," said Syndi. "I'm just gonna go to bed. 'Night guys!"

Her parents watched her head up the stairs.

"Did she say-"

"No," said Marilyn firmly. "No, she did not."

Syndi was at college when Marshall entered his underage-drinking phase. It was just after one in the morning when she was summoned to the communal 'phone on her floor, and she stood barefoot and blinking as she listened to him rant excitedly on the other end.

"Yeah," she said at length. "Yeah, I remember. Yeah, the chicken. No, I just left. Yes, sunglasses indoors. No, I don't think you can fight it. No, I don't think you can dance-contest it away. No, I- Mars? Marshall? Can you put Simon on?"

There was a long pause.

"Hi, it's Syndi. Hi. Yeah, it's great. Simon, listen," said Syndi, speaking slowly and distinctly into the cracked plastic receiver. "Take him home. Do not let him fight a giant chicken. Do not let him try to capture a giant chicken. Especially do not let him get into a dance-off with a giant chicken."

There was another long pause. Syndi sighed.

"Okay," she said. "Take pictures."


End file.
